Page 108 of The Cupid Chronicles

She shines as she gets permission to hang a community bulletin board by the mailboxes, where people can post when they have a need or can fill a need—just in time for an elderly woman to post about a faulty dishwasher and the middle-aged plumber to offer his services for free.

It turned out that the plumber and the woman’s son were best friends when they were ten, but because of a move, they lost touch. Magically reconnected and friendship rekindled.

She practically dances as she forces me back to Winnie’s on a Sunday afternoon for Jerry’s goulash, which he insists I’m going to want to put on my menu.

I don’t.

We work out the riddles and carry out the magic’s demands, and every single time we’re successful, it’s like she’s won gold at the Olympics. She’s so invested in every person, so committed to seeing it all through.

She’s so happy to help people she doesn’t even know.

And unlike me, once she’s helped, she doesn’t disappear. She stays in touch. She knows all their names.

I can practically see the ripple effect she’s having on this community.

Dante is now dating Iris’s co-worker, Brooke. I’m not convinced that was magic, but itwasIris.

I’m starting to think the two are the same thing.

Last Wednesday, after family dinner, my hostess, Jenna, got sick and had to go home. Iris jumped in without a beat of hesitation. She was so good at it that several of my customers tipped her. She filled in two more nights until Jenna came back, and while everyone loves Jenna, I got the sense that most of my staff was sad when Iris left right after we cleared the plates from family dinner.

When she’s not around, I think about her. Check in on her. I’ve started carrying my phone just in case she texts me.

And every day, it gets harder and harder to deny that my feelings for Iris aren’t going away. I’m doing exactly what I said I wouldn’t do.

I’m falling for her.

Guilt nips at my heels every time I’m with her. Every time I laugh. Because isn’t letting myself have feelings for Iris a betrayal to the woman I promised to love for the rest of my life?

Iris thinks I’m still anxious to be rid of the magic, but the truth is I’m dreading the day one of the newspapers shows up at her door with her name on it and not mine.

Chapter Thirty

Iris

So,I’m like a wizard now. A star student. A magician.

I’ve gotten really good at sorting out what the newspaper wants me to see, even without Matteo’s help, but it’s way more fun to work on it together. We sometimes have competitions to see who can sort it faster. I’ve actually beaten him twice, and I’mprettysure my victories were legit.

More than that, I’ve started to see ways for us to help people, even without the magic. Like, last week, I convinced him to take his day off and help me plan a date night for Val and Bear. We spent the afternoon at the restaurant—him in the kitchen and me in the dining room, setting up a special dinner just for the two of them. While they ate, Matteo and I hung back in the kitchen, also eating, and by the end of the night, the four of us were laughing over a spread of desserts we pulled from the refrigerator.

Liz and Brooke got tired of me talking about my “new friends” and demanded to be introduced, so we met at Aria for dinner and ended up having so much fun, we had a girls’ night.

I’m still trying not to get attached. Not only to Matteo, but to his friends.

But they’re making that incredibly difficult.

When I’m there, I feel like theywantme there. They want to know about me, about my life. They make me feel like I fit in.

And I haven’t fit in anywhere in . . . maybe forever.

I survived the near-kiss by avoiding the topic and pretending it never happened. But I imagine the “what if itdid. . .” more often than I will ever admit.

These fantasies are made worse by the fact that I’ve put myself in a similar situation several times over the last few weeks, practically waiting for him in the hallway so I can show him our new magic assignment, then sticking around while he unwinds after his very exhausting day.

Which is why I’m here now, on his couch, pretending to watchThe Great British Baking Showwhen all I’m really doing is thinking about how our thighs and shoulders are practically touching.

Am I trying to recreate the moment? Maybe.

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